Back to England
by CrimsonPearlAlice
Summary: It is no mundane task for one to return from a war, regardless of the context or the facade they build up. Edmund has much more in common with his father than he thinks.


Winter was fast approaching in the Pevensie household, sending occasional gusts of brisk air through the halls from drafty windows and echoing creeks of walls as the supports swayed slightly in the wind. The streets were coated in ice, forcing everyone to bundle up into layers upon layers of clothing and dust off old fur coats that had been tucked underneath beds for many months. Lucy simply adored this time of year, it meant Christmas and baking and she simply adored the smell and feel of fur. It reminded her of Narnia, and nothing was better than that. Peter enjoyed the winter, for it meant more time to spend with his family while everyone was on holiday. The harsh conditions means they were stuck inside for much of the day, and by default spent many hours hunched over a roaring fire talking about everything and nothing. When the children's parents were around they had to be very careful what they spoke of, for Narnia was only known to the four Kings and Queens and fellow Friends of Narnia, and they planned to keep it that way lest they end up in an institution. But, regardless of the conversation, Peter treasured the occasion. Even Susan was in a festive mood. She was gushing over the newest winter fashion, despite not having the money to afford any of them. The time off meant less time wasted on her studies and for that she was thankful. The time with family was nice too, she supposed, but she much preferred to spend the days off at a friend's house, eating like birds and chattering the day away, mostly only being at home in the evenings and into late morning. Mrs. Pevensie was just cherishing any occasion she could have her entire family with her- all of her children and her loving husband- safe and sound at last.

The same could not be said for Mr. Pevensie and his youngest son, Edmund. Edmund had always taken after their father, although he was a mother's boy. He didn't particularly realize he took after his father, since the man had left to go to war when Edmund was so young, but he was much more like his father than his mother, for better or for worse.

Night had crept up unknowingly, and for the first time in a few days Susan had been home for dinner, and the six Pevensies had shared quite a lovely meal and spent much of the evening talking about what they had planned for Christmas, and the children teasing one another about what their gifts were. Helen and Sim would merely smile and laugh along with them, before declaring it was time for bed. "But mum I'm not even ti- tired," Edmund yawned and covered his mouth and ducked his head in an attempt to hide it.

"Oh sure you aren't Edmund, and I'm not faster than you either- race you upstairs!" Peter guffawed and shoved his way past his younger brother gently, and Edmund sprang after him.

The large grandfather clock downstairs struck three times, and Peter jolted awake. He had thought he heard a noise from his parent's room next door, a quick sharp yell that was cut short. The oldest Pevensie child sat up carefully and continued to listen as a door creaked open and clicked shut. Peter sighed to himself, he knew that the war had taken its toll on their father, but he didn't know what to do to help him. Of course, he understood what the man was going through, he had experienced a different type of war, but a war all the same. They weren't frightened by the same things- where their father would start at loud noises Peter would jolt at the sound of a dog howling. He couldn't help his father, he knew, because that would mean explaining Narnia, and that was out of the question. Grudgingly, Peter buried himself back into his blankets where he continued to toss and turn for many minutes. He couldn't pinpoint the cause of his restlessness until he heard the sound of a blanket being kicked to the floor on the other side of the room.

"No- I'm sorry- I didn't know! Don't..." Edmund rolled over, his arm hanging off the edge of his bed for a moment before he snapped it to his stomach and gasped, his breath then coming out more raged and faint than it had before. Peter pushed the covers off himself and glanced at his younger brother for a second, waiting to see if the nightmare would pass- more than half the times they would, and he knew Edmund hated being seen as weak. "No don't!" Edmund had hollered that time. Peter was on his feet and about to shake his brother awake, when another figure dashed into the room. His father ran over to the bed and knelt beside Edmund, the bags under his eyes evident, his expression that of a frightened child.

Peter was quickly at his side as their father shook Edmund's arm lightly. The boy's face was contorted and a thin layer of sweat coated him. His arm swung towards their father once as if to dismember an attacker, but Peter caught his hand before he could do anything. "Edmund! Edmund wake up!" The boy's eyes snapped open, and his tense form immediately shrunk as he pushed himself backwards towards the wall. His breathing was now rapid as his eyes glanced back and forth between Peter and their father. "Calm down, son. You're alright." Peter wasn't sure whether Sim was saying that to Edmund or himself, so Peter placed a hand on his father's shoulder, nodded once, and stood up to leave the room. He wasn't sure what it was, but he had hardly ever suffered from nightmares like his brother did. But, then again, he hadn't gone through what Edmund had, either. He silently crept down the stairs and curled up on the couch, the light sounds of his father and brother talking upstairs eventually lulling him to sleep.

A/N: I know it isn't much, but I've had this idea floating around in my head for some time now, and I figured I might as well put it on paper. I may continue this as a sort of miniseries about the Pevensie's transition back into England if I have the opportunity. Let me know if you liked it, feedback, food or bad, is always appreciated. I would love to know how to improve as a writer.


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